They Shoot Horses Don't They?
http://www.theyshoothorses.org
styles: freaky kaleidoscopic circus-rock with multiple influences and
instruments
others: Man Man, Xiu Xiu, that over-referenced Beefheart dude (but
for real this time)
Boo
Hoo Hoo Boo
Kill Rock Stars, 2006
rating: 3.5/5
reviewer: grantpurdumthegumshoe
Ahem, excuse me, but cough-HOLYFUCKINGSHIT-cough... trumpet stuck in my
bum... insane fops chanting and dancing polka in my belly... a licorice rope
umbellical cord... circus freaks peddling Miracle Scrote-Gro in my
cranium...
[lurched from sleep, sitting up in bed]
Jesus, what a dream! Man, this kooky rapid-eye-movement vision reminds me of
my many attempts to review Boo Hoo Hoo Boo by They Shoot Horses Don't
They?. I just couldn't do it. This album hit that nerve that all reviewers
have; that dimple, that button that when pushed can leave a writer writhing
in agony on the floor. Writer's block? Hell-to-the-nizo; this is much worse.
So now, after multiple leads have been snuffed out and several tie-ins
suffocated, I am left with no choice: I must resort to the track-by-track
round-up, a rarely used, much-ballyhooed tactic. Yeah, I wish they'd bring
back Sledge Hammer!, too. Episode 2 of the first season was even
called "Hammer gets Nailed"; you just don't find that kind of cleverness on
TV these days. Now every cop drama is nothing but M. Chiklis or some other
bald, secretly dandy actor slamming some ex-rapper into a van, shoving a gun
into his mouth and saying "I WANT SOME ANSWERS AND I WANT THEM NOW!" And
know what? I've NEVER SEEN them not get answers. Just once I'd like to see
the criminal spit in his face and take the consequences, thus calling
Chiklis' bluff and exposing his tutu. Just once.
Oh right, the track-by-track round-up, shit! Here goes:
Track #1, "Emptyhead": A slow, slammin' backbeat gives way to a syrupy synth
line and slippery sax toot. Trumpets, kazoo and all sorts of other riff-raff
emerge from an unseen alley and flog the devil-hell out of the singer, who
exits for the last minute or so of the song. Man, Man Man doesn't seem so...
manly anymore, outside of a live setting at least.
Track #2, "Hiccup": This song stretches out with a torrent of discordant
noise and what sounds like more goddamn trumpet. I always hated trumpet
players in school band; thought they were so big because they could play
over everyone, even us drummers. This trumpeter is obviously of that ilk.
Thankfully his band rocks fucking ass. This track is dirtier than pig brains
in Jell-o and seven times smellier.
Track #3, "Sunlight": My stomach heavy with goat meat, I almost spew out
every last flank-chunk when "Sunlight" squeaks through my ear cavities.
Crazy sax, tapping tambourines, acoustic guitar holding it all together.
This is either my lucky day or They Shoot Horses', because I'm pretty sure I
"get it" now. Not that it's the punchline to a joke, but you know what I
mean you goddamn sandbagger.
Track #4, "Seeds": Entry no. four marks the beginning of the Catchy Chorus
Sweepstakes, to be in continuance until the end of the album. Hot-damn,
these refrains will stick in yer head like BubbleYum in yer hair. I remember
shaving my head once to get rid of gum; could a lobotomy be too far away?
The faintest hint of rock-a-billy guitar almost makes me reference the
Reverend, but not quite ... in fact, forget I mentioned it.
Track #5, "The Bugs": Those who compare this band to Neutral Milk Hotel –
yes, YOU – prove that most of us still aren't ready for In the Aeroplane
Over the Sea OR Boo Hoo Hoo Boo. But I already knew that; what I
didn't know is how much I really like music my co-workers at The Daily
Planet (workplace pseudonym) will definitely, without-a-doubt hate. Again,
fuck 'em!
Track #6, "Three": Who is the dimwit that envisioned this track-by-track
business? Oh yeah, that was me. Well balls to this. It's just not realistic.
Do I have a spare seven hours to spend reviewing each and every CD I
receive? YES, but I'd rather be fishin' trout out of yonder river. So let's
wrap this package up and add the bow, shall we? Military snare marches,
clots of rusty clarinet and trombone and trumpet and sax, zany vocals
straight from a straightjacket savant and synths-a-plenty are the order
here, and it's tough not to get caught up in the unmitigated zeal of They
Shoot Horses. It's not the sort of stuff that'll move you; you might
chicken-strut around the kitchen and do a bump-'n'-grind for the greeter at
your local Wal-Mart, but you won't sell all your possessions and move to
Nepal or anything. But who wants to move to Nepal?
Exaaaactly.
1. Empty Head
2. Hiccup
3. Sunlight
4. Seeds
5. Bugs
6. Three
7. Concussion
8. Big Dot
9. Lowlife
10. Words
11. Apple
